The following is the third in a series of free audio mixtapes to accompany each quarterly issue of Nat. Brut.Fat Tony is the stage name of Anthony Obi, a Nigerian-American rapper from Houston, Texas. He has won the Houston Press Music Award for Best Underground Hip Hop in 2008, 2009, and 2010. His forthcoming album, Smart Ass Black Boy, will be released June 11th on Young One Records. You can follow him at http://fattonyrap.comand on Twitter @fattonyrap.

Growing up I rarely gave a fuck. I surely didn't give a flying fuck about approval from my dismissive-ass teachers. And I didn't give a motherfuck about what my peers thought about me. I never gave two fucks, a shit, nor a damn about a doorman. I've dedicated my nightlife to evading them, working my way into venues that restricted me when I was young.

During my teens there was a series of free Hip Hop concerts happening every month for a good year or so promoted by an infamous car company who made their bread and butter on hipsters’ bar tabs. They always featured legends like Bun B of UGK, Slick Rick, De La Soul, and many more. So of course my young rap nerd self was geeked up and determined to see them all. Only problem was... they were always fucking 21+ only. Blasted age restrictions! I spent much of my youth advocating all-ages shows, and I still do when applicable, but now that I am an adult I definitely see the disadvantages of trying to get your drunken groove on around 17-year-olds glued to their camera phones. It can be a little disheartening.

Luckily for me these free rap shows were being held at a brand new venue, still too infatuated with its own excellence to enforce a strict security policy. I cased the joint every time I was there, figuring the backstage layout, the side-door entrances and how many flashlight cops may be present on any given night.

One time, Tom Cruz and I attended a Slick Rick performance promoting this ugly car campaign. Tom was already grown at the time so I had him go in first while I waited patiently by the side door. I stood around for ten minutes and began to worry I’d miss Treat Her Like A Prostitute. Suddenly a young cargo short-wearing, fitted cap-rocking (this was the pre-snapback era) Nike Dunk enthusiast was ejected from the building. Probably for smoking dope. Which truly is a pretty stupid reason to get kicked out a rap concert, if you ask me. I mean, it’s a fucking Hip Hop show. Allow me. Do you really think people ain’t trying to get high as hell to their favorite rapper slurring his own lyrics while his hype buddies back him up? Shit, it’s the least they can do.

I had to get it while the gettin’ was good so I made the call to Cruz to pop the door open for a player while the young man was being roughed up outside by the boys in black staff shirts. I made my move with the swiftness and effectively got a little sippy sip of Slick Rick the Ruler’s Grey Goose as he told the children’s story to the packed crowd. All of this with no wristbands and no facial hair.

My sneaking spree continued. I even got bold with it and started inviting girls my age to come join me in my mischief. Once I’d make my way in the venue I’d pop that same side door open and let two, three, or eight young ladies bum rush that bitch. As I began to perform more and more, I figured out how to get even more daring and tell the clueless staff I’m a performer, promoter, DJ, roadie, or whatever was clever for the particular event. All you need is a bored demeanor, a pretty looking cell phone, a knapsack of some sorts, and the knowledge to know that most venue staff don’t know nothing about nothing. I’m 25 years old and still sneaking into shows and implore y’all all to do the same. The venues already have the upper hand. As Soulja Boy said to Bow Wow, fuck ‘em.